


Opening Move

by shadowmaat



Series: Game of Thrones: Alderaan [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Sloppy Makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 17:44:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11788191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat
Summary: More than trust has been building between the former Sith protégé and the man who saved him from a life in prison. Maul decides it's time to do something about that.





	Opening Move

**Author's Note:**

> When SLWalker drops [tantalizing breadcrumbs](https://sl-walker.tumblr.com/post/163895607719/) of story ideas, I'm quick to snap them up. 'Twas only a snippet to get the ball rolling, and at her request the snippet has been expanded into more of a full (and steamy) scene.

Bail had come to enjoy self-defense lessons with Maul. They may have started as a way to appease Maul’s guilt over having injured him during panic attacks, but it didn’t take long for them to morph into something even better: a chance for Maul to shine as he so rarely did. Spending time with him on the training mats, or out in the gardens if the weather was agreeable, gave him a chance to observe a rarely-glimpsed side of the household’s most reclusive member. And he liked what he saw.

As a teacher Maul was patient and knowledgeable. Bail’s initial bumbling was greeted with explanations and corrections; a careful touch here, the slide of a hand there to show him how he was supposed to move. It was a slow process and he still wasn’t sure there was an actual  _ need _ for him to learn any of it, but it was worth the sore muscles and occasional bruises to see Maul settle into his own skin and gain more confidence. If he sometimes feigned misunderstanding just so his “teacher” would have a chance to correct his stance or lecture him on situational awareness, well, it didn’t hurt anyone. Until Maul caught on and tripped him, slamming a stave into the ground between his legs. Future generations of Organas breathed a sigh of relief as Bail apologized for his unbecoming behavior and after a few weeks of particularly businesslike lessons Maul seemed to forgive him and all was well again.

Bail had made a lot of progress since the training began; they both had. In fact he’d long since reached the level of competence that Maul felt was necessary for him to be “safe,” yet neither of them spoke about stopping. They still met once or twice a week, if Bail’s schedule allowed it, and still went through the warmups and practices. There was always something new to learn and while Bail hoped someday he might manage to get the drop on his teacher he was content to wind up flipped to the ground whenever he tried.

Years later he’d look back at this time and marvel at his own colossal stupidity. How had he failed to notice? The lingering touches. The heated looks. The fact that he himself was happiest whenever Maul was around. It had all seemed natural. And it all was natural, just in a few more important ways than he’d realized. No, somehow he’d managed to stay oblivious until that day by the river. 

It was the height of summer. Although their usual practice room would have been cooler, both of them were restless and felt a need to be out in the heat of the afternoon. The trees by the Stonebrook provided some welcome shade and there was just enough breeze to keep them from becoming overheated. Their lesson was drawing to a close and Bail was giving serious thought to throwing himself into the river when Maul turned, head tilted up as he tracked the flight of a bird. Bail tried to follow the movement and thus missed what happened next. One moment they were both standing and the next air left his lungs in a whoosh as he found himself flat on his back with Maul straddling his legs. The wind shifted and so did the world.

Bail stared up at a face he knew almost as well as his own, aware of every point of contact between them. Warm hands circled his wrists, pinning them to the grass. Legs clad in thin, summerweight pants hugged his hips; he could feel every muscle as Maul shifted, making minute adjustments to his position. There was also the colorful expanse of Maul’s chest on display. They’d both abandoned their shirts to the heat and for the first time he noticed how the jagged black marks drew the eye downward.

His heart beat faster than the exercise warranted and breathing was becoming an issue. He knew he should break away, should ignore the feeling coiling in his stomach and beg off. This was inappropriate. Unwelcome. Shameful. But the moment continued to stretch, and before he could make a decision Maul spoke.

“Do you want me to let go?”

Soft words that nevertheless dug into his skin, spreading heat.

“...I don’t know.”

He should have made it a joke, something to lighten the mood so he could save face and escape, but his own voice betrayed him. He stared up, wondering if Maul could hear the wild pounding of his heart. 

Maul leaned closer, gold eyes darkening as he searched Bail’s face. Bail knew he could still stop… whatever this was, if he wanted to, but watching Maul nibble at his bottom lip caused his thoughts to scatter. 

Guilty flickers of  _ improper _ and  _ scandalous _ were blown away by  _ need  _ and  _ want _ .

Something flashed across Maul’s face and then Bail was gasping, arching against that warm chest as teeth pressed into his throat, searing the skin with hot breath. He tilted his head, unable to hold in a small moan as Maul growled, sending shivers down his spine and heat plunging into his groin.

An instant later and Maul was pulling back, his face scant inches from Bail’s own. Both of them were panting. They stared at each other, mirrored expressions of confusion, awe, and need. Maul’s pupils were wide and ringed in gold and he must have liked what he saw because when Bail opened his mouth to say-  _ something _ \- there was a clash of teeth and tongues and Maul was kissing him.

It’s messy and unskilled, but Bail lent his years of experience to fuel it and smooth the roughest edges. It seemed to last forever and end too soon. Maul lifted his head, breath ghosting along Bail’s cheeks. His eyes fluttered open, meeting Maul’s own before his attention drifted down to those soft, full lips.

“Was that wrong?”

His honeyed voice was huskier but still more fragile than it had been in years. Bail managed to free one hand and reached up, cupping his cheek and running his thumb over those lips.

“No,” he said, smiling into those perfect eyes. “No, it wasn’t.”

He had no idea where things might go from here, but he was really, really looking forward to it.


End file.
